


Moments of Minnie

by Pronunciation_Hermy_One, SAYS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 01:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pronunciation_Hermy_One/pseuds/Pronunciation_Hermy_One, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SAYS/pseuds/SAYS
Summary: For Anne -- In the end, the measure of your life is not how much time you had, but what you did with it. Moments scattered throughout history tell a larger story as Minerva ensures her story will go on. ***Written for SAYS Facebook Fic Exchange***





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Virginie: Thank you for the opportunity to write again, especially for you! Shaking off the dust bunnies and stretching my proverbial writer’s legs has been such a treat. Your prompts were inspirational, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it for you!

A thin smile spread across her weathered face as she lay her quill to rest on the bedside table. Her expression softened; deep lines traced a map of the valleys and peaks of adventure, joy, worry, and pain of this life. Gently closing the leather bound book of parchment that lay across her lap, she inhaled deeply, the scent bringing back memories that swirled heavily around her. The last of her most important thoughts, the burden of knowledge she had carried, lay within. It was time, and she was ready. 

 

Ch 1:

Minerva had always been fascinated by many things. Considered by most, if not all, to be the brightest witch of her class, she was determined to leave her mark on Hogwarts. A half-blood with no family name to rely on, reputation was everything if she hoped to make a life there. 

She was a talented Quidditch player, and House pride carried her when talent and training, though considerable, fell short. The roar of the crowd bolstered her further as adrenaline coursed through her veins. The freedom of flying was invigorating and juxtaposed the rigor and ferocity of her focus for academics, providing precisely the outlet she needed. 

The outlet was needed, of course, so as to have the determination to carry on with the exhausting and mind boggling feat that lay before her in transfiguration. Minerva had yet to meet a challenge which had defeated her. As she studied with Professor Dumbledore, toiling endlessly, she was determined to garner success once again and register as an animagus before her time at Hogwarts was through. 

On top of Quidditch and her academic pursuits, she had made her desire for leadership known. The last four years of hard work had seemingly begun to pay off, and having secured her position as Prefect, she was on her way to becoming Head Girl. The balance between juggling her school life and that of maintaining her family’s secret at home weighed heavily upon her shoulders. There were few, if any owls exchanged during the year, so as not to arouse the neighbor’s suspicions. It was challenging, at first, as she missed the comfort and reassurance of her dad and mum at home, desiring to share with them the magic and wonder as she discovered it. But, as the years passed, it became easier to throw herself headlong into her world at Hogwarts, disconnecting from her Muggle life at home. The challenge then became, of course, the months of break from her studies while she was back home; re-acclimating to the Sundays in her father’s parish and maintaining the facade of normalcy to protect them all. 

The trouble, she pondered now, with so many fascinating pursuits was, of course, the limits of time. How was she to continue with a successful Quidditch career, become an animagus, secure all of her O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, make a real name for herself and continue to make her parents proud? 

Her mum was proud, of course, having been Quidditch Captain herself. The news of Minerva being made a prefect had been met with joy and celebration. But, making her mum proud was always conflicting, as the strain of carrying the burden of secrecy regarding his wife and children's magical abilities weighed heavily upon her father’s shoulders. Her abiding love and respect for him bolstered her during these long summers as she lay her wand to rest until she went back to school each Autumn. 

Time, it seemed, was the answer to all of her problems. Making a quick mental note to spend a bit more time in the library when she returned, Minerva wondered again why no one has a magical solution for this finite commodity, yet. Time, quite probably, was the most elusive of restraints, and Minerva loathed being circumvented by anything.

“Oi, Minnie!” She startled and turned to stare at the gangly Dougal McGregor as he pulled his horse and cart to a sharp stop before her. Still laying in the field, she was blocking his path and, so lost in thought, had been in danger of being trampled. 

 

“Are you alright, then?” He ventured, wiping bits of hay and grass from his trousers as he hopped down from the cart. He reached her in two strides and held out his hand to help her from the ground. Minerva’s stomach flip flopped as their hands met, and her heart raced. 

His eyes, the most striking grey, never ceased to unravel her. As children, she had been captivated by their beauty, trying repeatedly and unsuccessfully to capture their magnificence on parchment… artistic endeavors, having never been her strong suit. And now, again, she found herself lost in their depths, the swirling contrast of dark and light mesmerizing her. 

 

“I’m... sorry,” she stammered, and realizing she was still clinging to his hand, let go quickly as she steadied to her feet. Her hands moved to her head, trying to sweep the leaves and grass from her coifed hair without being too obvious. 

He studied her apprehensively for a moment before continuing. “I didn’t realize you’d come back from school yet. How was it, this year?” 

“Fine. It was fine,” she spoke hurriedly. It always made her uncomfortable to speak of school at home. Living in a countryside filled with Muggles, her father’s parishioners, and bound by the International Statute of Secrecy, was difficult for the moral-bound Minerva. “It is certainly nice to be home,” she offered. 

“It’s rather nice to have you home,” Dougal said, his eyes wavering between the ground at her feet and a spot in the sky somewhere above her left eye. He cleared his throat and then launched into a headlong monologue he had clearly been practicing, though perhaps not enough. “Would you, maybe, if you’re not predisposed, or perhaps if your mum and dad aren’t disinclined, though of course you’ve only just gotten home, so they must want to see you, but, only, the lot of us were thinking of heading into town tomorrow, and I’d be happy to accompany you, if you’d want to, though you probably wouldn’t want to ride with me?”

Minerva stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher the message and keep up with the words tumbling out of his mouth. She stood, lost once again in those eyes, before realizing it had been an invitation and a response was quite necessary. 

“Oh!” She turned pink. 

“No, you probably wouldn’t want to, it was silly of me to even ask,” he rushed as he turned and trotted back to climb onto his cart without looking back at her. 

“Yes!” She shouted, a bit louder and much more enthusiastically than she had intended. 

He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to look at her feet once again before his gaze moved slowly upward to her eyes. “I’ll be around then, to ask your father this evening?” 

She nodded hurriedly and turned around to run back home without another word. Thoughts of Quidditch practice and transfiguration nagged at the back of her mind. Well, certainly, Minerva, she chastised herself. You’ve one summer to accomplish feats of extraordinary challenges, why not add a boy? 

The weight of everything came crashing staunchly back on her shoulders. Time, she knew, would be the key to all.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

Her final year at Hogwarts had come to an end, and success was known once again. Minerva smiled to herself as the familiar sound of the train tracks clacking beneath them provided a comforting rhythm to steady her thoughts. Quidditch was no longer an option, a memory that brought a scowl to her face every time she remembered. But, a respectable job with the ministry was waiting. Things were looking to be moving in her favor, and the name she was looking forward to making for herself was in sight.

“Good evening, Father,” she rehearsed once again quietly to herself. “Oh yes, school was quite lovely this year. I can turn into a cat now!”

She shook her head. No, that probably wouldn’t be best. 

“Please pass the salt, Minerva,” she mimicked his deep voice in her head. 

“Meow” she replied, and chortled to herself until she imagined him falling off his chair, clutching his chest. The laughter died in her throat. How would she ever explain this, and what an extraordinary feat it was? 

The train was slowing now, and she furrowed her brows together tightly as she gathered her belongings to make her way off the train. The sound of laughter broke her concentration as her brothers ran through the hall outside her compartment, sprinting toward the stairs to greet their parents. She shook her head, and followed after them, balancing her trunk, satchel and a box of sweets she had brought home for her mum and dad. 

“You seem distracted,” her father murmured as they drove down the winding lane, blurs of green as trees passed in her peripheral view. She started, not realizing she had been staring out the window for at least an hour now, judging by their surroundings. “Is everything alright?” He ventured slowly, softly, though his whisper was hardly needed as her brothers had kept up a continuous dialogue, regaling their mother with tales of chaos that inevitably ended in peals of laughter.

Minerva took a deep breath and looked sideways at her father, glancing into the backseat at her mother who was squashed between the boys and listening intently to their stories.

“I’ve done something rather difficult,” she began, watching her father’s face. “In fact, it’s something I’ve been working on with Professor Dumbledore for years now, and not many wizards or witches have accomplished it,” she paused, remembering her vision of her father clutching his chest and fell off of his chair earlier. Perhaps running the car off of the road wasn’t exactly a preferable outcome, either. 

“Ah, yes, your exam marks are in already, then?” Her father inquired, cocking his head to the side. “I thought your mum said they wouldn’t be ready until midway through your break. That’s quite something to be proud of. Then again, I’ve always known you were bright, whatever you set your mind to, Minerva,” he nodded approvingly. 

“Well, yes. I do think my exams went well,” she spoke haltingly. “We don’t receive our marks for a month or so, though.” She cleared her throat as they wound their way up to the house and the car slowed to a halt. Her brothers and mum began extricating themselves from the back seat, and she heard them open the boot. It was now or never. “I’ve had a rather large success in my transfiguration studies, though.” She began. 

“Your what?”

“Transfiguration.”

“Ah, yes. When you turn something into something else, if I recall. I do hope you’ll show me, someday… privately, of course, so the –ah-“ he looked side to side “neighbors wouldn’t see. Of course, when you’re allowed to show me things outside of school.”

“Well, not exactly something, father,” she coughed again. “And I can show you now. I’m of legal age there now. It’s me. I can transfigure.”

“You can transfigure what?”

“Me.”

“Yes, you. I understand. You can transfigure what? Something large? Something larger than usual?” She could tell her was trying very hard to be supportive and understanding, but as his hand moved to the car door, she realized she would lose her nerve if she didn’t act now. And so, as he stood from the car, still staring at her, his gaze drifting toward the house, she did it. 

Her father blinked twice. Her mother dropped the bags she was carrying. Her brothers smiled encouragingly, and then backed slowly into the house, the laughter between them dying on the wind as they took in their father’s face. And then he turned and walked into the house, and her yellow eyes met stormy grey, previously hidden behind her father’s now departing figure. 

“Is Minerva here?” 

Blood like ice in her veins, she froze, crouched on the front seat of the car. The hair on her back stood at attention. Her ears twitched. His scent, hay, horses and apple blossoms wafted past her nose, and her stomach dropped instinctively. 

“Did you get a cat?” Dougal interjected again, eyes searching between her father, mother and the front door of the house.   
Her mother shook her head slowly, “No. She is uh… Minerva will be home by supper.”

Dougal nodded, “Perhaps, may I call on her later?” Her mum nodded. 

Minerva remained motionless as she watched his departing figure. She slowly jumped from the car, crept up the porch stairs and came to stand in the entryway of the house. When she heard the door click closed behind her, she became Minerva again. Eyes searching upwards, Minerva met her father’s gaze. 

“I’m… sorry,” she whispered, the impropriety and irresponsibility of her actions quite apparent, now that her nerves had settled.   
He nodded. “That was… impressive.” 

She smiled faintly as he ventured back down the stairs to finish collecting their trunks from the car.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

Minerva was back on a train. She had begun to hate them. Gone were the days that a train ride took her to and from Hogwarts, magical experiences and joyful days of learning. No longer did they bring her home to family, to friends, to Dou… his name expired silently before she completed the thought, her lips pursing all too familiarly. 

The train drifted from view, and she saw his face again. Moonlight fell across his eyes, the stars reflecting in the swirling depths of grey. She touched her cheek, remembering the familiar sensation of his fingertips as they had brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. How truly she loved this boy. The butterflies in her stomach were replaced by nausea once again. 

The conductor called out her stop and she hefted herself from the seat, grabbing her bag and stepping toward the door in one movement. 

“Excuse me,” a deep voice interjected as its owner bowled into her. She gasped, dropping her belongings and plunging headlong toward the platform below as two strong arms steadied her back to her feet. Minerva quickly righted herself, straightening her cloak and reaching for her scattered possessions. She huffed in irritation, snatching her bag from the outstretched hand. “My apologies, Minerva.”

She looked up sharply. “Oh! Mr. Urquart,” she gasped, her tone changing instantly. Snapping at her boss was certainly no way to begin this day. “My apologies! I should have been—“

“Ready for me to knock you off of your feet?” he chuckled dryly. “No, Minerva, the fault is my own.” 

Minerva paused, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“May I accompany you to the office?” 

She had wanted the time, extra time, to plan speaking with him today. Though, certainly historically, conversations she had rehearsed didn’t seem to improve their effectiveness in any way.

Minerva nodded stiffly, and they headed through the park toward the four story building in the distance, home to her office. The scent of apple blossoms filled the October air, sweetening the chill of the morning as it filled her senses. His voice carried, drifting in and out of her memories. 

“…another case. The signs are adding up to something bigger.”

“But, just last night you said ‘yes’. Tell me, Minerva, tell me what has changed.”

“They want extra hours from all of us. I’m going to have to put you out in the field a bit more, Ms. McGonagall. I know it will take you from your research with the Department of Mysteries,” 

“Minnie, please…” 

“… working with time must be preferable to giants and whatnot”

“I love you, Minerva.” 

“Ms. McGonagall, are you hearing me?”

“But, I love you, please!”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, sir.” Minerva spoke quickly, the words surprising her as she recalled the last time she had uttered that phrase. She watched as her normally unflappable superior paused in his tracks. 

“Excuse me?”

“Albus Dumbledore has reached out to me. He’s offered me a teaching position with Hogwarts. Transfiguration. And… and, I have accepted.” She blurted the last part out. 

He blinked.

“I meant to tell you today. Formally. Officially. I was going to request a meeting. But then,”

“But then I knocked you from the train platform and trapped you in a walk to the office…” he murmured. 

There was a pause, and then he cleared his throat. 

“It is a great loss, Minerva.”

“I…” she halted at the use of her first name, and looked up at him. “I do not leave until December, sir. Certainly, I will get everything in order. I appreciate the opportunity you have given me here.”

“Elphinstone, if you please.” 

She pursed her lips at the thought of calling her superior, so much her senior, by his first name. 

“And Minerva, you earned it.”

“Well, yes, sir.” She conceded this, knowing it to be the truth, and ignoring his request for informality, continued, “I hope I have not disappointed you, sir.” Disappointing the men in her life seemed to be her particular specialty. 

He nodded, and they continued their walk to the office. 

“When business brings me to Hogwarts, I would be privileged to see you.”

“Thank you…” Minerva trailed off, watching him walk through the lift doors next to them. Well, that had gone rather better than she imagined, at least.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4  
Albus chuckled in that maddening way that both diffused and incensed her at the same time. The greatest wizard in the world she mused, staring down her nose at him in what she hoped was a respectful display of disagreement. 

“They are out of control, sir. Potter and Black have done it again!”

“And Severus goads them, Minerva.”

“Yes, but,” And Albus was laughing again, his eyes twinkling all the more at her ire. 

“They are in your house, Minerva. Do with them as you see fit. But, I cannot allow you to keep Remus for detention this evening.”

“I don’t understand why you favor—“

“Minerva, the question is not of favor. Remus will be unavailable this evening. Furthermore, from my understanding, he was simply an innocent bystander.”

Minerva shook her head, knowing it was useless to argue the point further. “I’d rather wish they’d stop requiring me to defend Severus. I’d like nothing more than to see us mop the floor with Slytherin this year,” she spat bitterly. 

“Indeed. Now, Minerva, more to the point of why I called you for this meeting. I have been asked to handle a task that I feel would be best kept in your capable hands.”

Minerva stared at him skeptically. What task would be better off in her hands than his?

“I received an owl from Elphinstone,”

“Who?” Minerva cocked her head to the side.

“Mr. Urquart. He has contacted me. A project you were working on with the department of mysteries has stalled in your absence. They asked for my expertise, but I’m afraid my plate is rather full at the moment. Perhaps, I thought, you might like to resume your work?”

Minerva’s heart skipped a beat. “I would love that,” she responded immediately. 

She walked, her mood significantly improved, back to her office, to find a familiar figure standing in her doorway. 

“Minerva,”

“Mr. Urquart!” She gasped. “Albus did not mention he had seen you in person, I assumed it was by owl. Oh, thank you for the project! I will return my attention to it immediately, of course. I’m fascinated and think I was very close to understanding and harnessing, and… oh, dear. You must be tired after a long journey. May I offer you something to eat or drink?”

Elphinstone chuckled. “I thought perhaps I could convince you to take tea with me.” He spoke quietly and slowly. “I could use a walk.”

“Certainly,” said Minerva, gathering her cloak and hat. “It will be nice to hear how the ministry is, and to discuss the project.”

And so their friendship continued. Weeks turned to months, and months to years. Minerva found herself rather content with the relationship that developed between them. The confidence between colleagues allowed a sounding board for each. She discussed her toils and troubles, breakthroughs and successes as she plunged forward with her research. She was so close. She felt it within her bones. And while Elphistone had little insight to provide to her research, he provided a distraction as he shared his own insights into the dark matters brewing. It was a point of discussion frequently between she, Albus and a few of the other teachers. Rumblings of dark magic, hushed whispers about the werewolves and giants were not commonplace discussion. Yet, Albus seemed certain that something dark was afoot. 

Within an hour of his latest arrival, they had settled into their usual corner of Madam Puddifoot’s, warm apple tea in hand and a stronger beverage on its way. 

“Any success yet, Minerva?”

She smiled. “Oh, yes. Success, indeed.”

His eyes widened as he slapped his knee, an audible clap resounding through the shop. “Well done, then! Why hasn’t this been more widely publicized? When then, pray tell, do I see this wonder in person? Perhaps, try it out?”

Minerva shook her head slightly. “That, unfortunately, is out of the question. Time is, and shall remain, best left un-tampered with. The consequences of such actions could be catastrophic. I’ve agreed to turn over the time-turner and all of its rights back to the Department of Mysteries. I am…” she paused, mulling over the correct choice of words. “I am pleased to have known success, and pleased to turn the responsibility back over to the ministry for safe-keeping. It would take a very great wizard or witch to be encumbered with such responsibility, and to use it for only the noblest of purposes.”

“The greatest of witches sits before me,” Elphistone murmured, and Minerva blushed. “Truly, Minerva. I’ve yet to meet a witch, or wizard, for that matter, who is your equal. I’ve admired you from afar since the day you came to work with us at the ministry.”

There was something in his gaze, and it took her back to that moonlit night in the pasture. It never took much, a fleeting scent, a combination of words, a look, and there she was again, staring up into his eyes, the butterflies in her stomach flitting wildly back and forth. “Yes,” she remembered the words tumbling from her mouth as if it were yesterday, the happiness that overtook her when he kissed her, knowing that they would spend the rest of their days together. 

“Minerva?” 

She jumped, startled from her reverie. It took her a moment to focus on the man before her as images of the man she loved faded back into the past. 

“You are far too kind,” she ventured in response. 

“You, Minerva, are all of these things and more. I would,” he paused, licking his lips. “Minerva, I’ve grown rather fond of these chats of ours, our visits.”

“As have I, Elphistone. I value your friendship.”

“I would venture, no, I daresay, and I do not use this word lightly, I would love to make our visits more frequent. Permanent…. even.”

Minerva paused, the teacup pressed tightly against her lips. Where was that drink? 

Elphistone pressed forward, “I am besotted with you, Minerva. You are a witch without equal, and I would very much like to spend the rest of my days with you. I have found a cottage, here, actually, so that you would not have to even consider leaving your post at Hogwarts. I know how much it means to you.”

The bell on the shop door rang, and she glanced to the side as a small group of students from her House entered. Red hair glistened in the light of the sun setting through the window. Green eyes flashed with mischief over the top of Ms. Evans’ head, meeting those of stormy grey. Sirius saw her, and in his eyes she was taken back again. “I’ve been thinking about this, Minnie. I can’t see any reasonable reason for you to say no, and I can’t see any reasonable reason for me not to ask.” 

She had laughed, and the memory made her faintly ill, not remembering the last time anyone had made her laugh the way he did. “Yes.” She had answered him with such conviction, never having been more certain of anything in her life. “Yes, I will marry you!”

“Hold on, now. I haven’t even properly asked you yet,” he protested as her lips came crashing down onto his. It was the most impulsive and improprietous she could remember behaving, but everything in the world felt right in that moment. It was the last time she had felt that way. 

“Yes, yes, yes, Dougal. A million times, yes.”

Their laughter retreated, and Minerva was left staring at Elphistone, again. 

“I daresay, I’ve taken you by surprise?” 

Minerva cleared her throat. “Yes, I daresay. I am infrequently left speechless, Elphistone.”

He chuckled nervously, wiping his brown with his handkerchief. 

“I,” she hesitated. “I hold you in the highest regard, my dear friend. But, I do not foresee marriage in my future.”

Elphistone nodded, slowly, his face once again impassable. “I will escort you back to the castle now, then?”

She nodded, pressing her lips tightly together to keep from biting them. The return home was infinitely quieter than the walk there.


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 5

The war had come upon them quickly and ferociously. They had lost friends, family, allies, and students. Each and every day was filled with death, mayhem and destruction. Minerva fought. She stood by Albus Dumbledore’s side, she stood to protect the life and ways of the wizarding world, and behind her impervious facade, her heart ached at the news of each loss. The news of Dougal’s death, though, had hit her harder than she anticipated.

Her brother had written to her immediately, though it had taken her weeks to receive the message. Elphistone delivered it to her personally, having received word from her brother at the difficulty in locating her. Dougal had been in a park with his family—his wife and children. There was no chance of escape. Voldemort’s followers had acted swiftly and mercilessly. No muggle had survived. 

Minerva swallowed hard as the memories of the boy she had once loved receded. The war had ended, and they were slowly rebuilding their lives. 

“He does love you,” Albus had almost whispered it after Elphistone had departed once more. Minerva stood there for hours, simply staring out the window, numb to the cold, numb to the tears racing down her cheeks. It took a few more years, and another half a dozen proposals before her heart was prepared to love another. But Elphistone was patient, and his love never wavered. Their friendship repaired, the space which her love for Dougal had occupied left room in which to build a promising life in the wake of the war. 

Three years before, she had finally accepted, and they were wed. Minerva and Elphistone had built a lovely life together. The cottage he had dreamt of was still available, and so they moved in at once. She spent her days teaching the students at Hogwarts, helping to rebuild the future of the wizarding world in the wake of the destruction He Who Must Not Be Named left behind. Elphistone’s favorite pastime as he waited for her return in the evenings was in their garden. Poppy visited frequently, occasionally storing extra plants in their greenhouse, and she often found the two of them up to their elbows in dirt, and joined them with a cup of tea. 

And so, it was no surprise when Minerva entered the house and found it empty. The kettle was boiling, but the whistling ceased as soon as she removed it from the flame. Minerva smiled. Elphistone tried to always have a cup of hot tea ready for her when she arrived home. She took a moment to steep her tea, enjoying a long sip as she leaned against the sink and stared out the window at the setting sun. 

Holding the cup in her palm for warmth, she ventured through the back door into the garden. “It was a long day; thank you, my love,” she called as she wound her way between the flower beds, peering left and right for her husband. Her legs were tired after the walk from the castle, but she enjoyed it. Aging, she had decided, was less of a nuisance, and more of a luxury with this man by her side. 

She smiled again, stopping to kneel down and inhale the scent of a particularly violet bloom near the path. Something glimmered, catching her eye, and she turned to see it.

Red. It was wet and red. The ground. The door. Minerva stood quickly, wand drawn. 

“Elphistone?” 

There was no response. Minerva continued slowly toward the puddle of red growing on the ground. “Elphistone?” She called again, louder, but there was still no response. Minerva gasped as she rounded the corner, wand held in front of her. A strangled scream tore from her throat as she dropped to her knees, her robes immediately drenched in scarlet red blood. 

“Elphistone!” she shook him, rolling him onto his back. But she knew already, as the Venemous Tentacula’s vine shot out toward her, that it was too late. She severed the plant’s limb swiftly and dragged her husband from the greenhouse, his waxen face pale in the moonlight against the blood sodden stone walkway. 

All of the magic in the world could not have saved him. Tragedy, it seemed, like heartache, followed her. Minerva was alone, again.


	6. Chapter 6

Ch. 6  
“And you see, if only I had more time, I could take all of these classes, Professor McGonagall!” the young girl had wailed, frenzied, as they sat pouring over the year’s schedule together. 

“I may have a solution, Miss Granger.” She had pondered for only a moment, a prior conversation with Elphistone ringing in her mind. “It would take a very great wizard or witch to be encumbered with such responsibility, and to use it for only the noblest of purposes.” Indeed, Miss Granger had certainly proven herself.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Minerva recalled a distinct feeling of shock as she stared at him, sputtering in her attempt to gather her wits. “He spat at you.” It was, indeed, quite gallant, she had assured him. She recalled the distinct terror clutching at her heart as she saw this young boy standing there, steadfast in his resolve. 

“NO!” It was her own voice now, assaulting her even in sleep. She remembered the sound tearing from her throat, not certain that she had even created anything other than an anguished scream, as she watched Hagrid carry the young man out of the forest. Her knees gave out as she re-lived the moment, again, and again. 

“Professor McGonagall.”

And then she was laying in the field, looking up at the sky. Dougal’s shadow fell across her, and she was smiling into his face. The butterflies of young love had returned, and the corners of her mouth tugged upward as she recalled his invitation to town. Time and space evolved, and then they were standing together again in the same spot. “Yes,” she laughed, and happiness overwhelmed her. 

“Professor.”  
When she looked up again, it was no longer Dougal’s grey eyes she peered into. She looked down and saw their hands entwined, and a sense of peace overtook her. Elphistone was with her once more, and they were drinking tea in the garden. 

“Minerva.”

But then he was gone, and the war overtook them once more. Dougal was gone. Her friends were gone. The world was falling apart at its seams. She heard herself screaming once again, the sounds of her horror creating a chorus as images of loss and pain filled her vision. She was shaking, her head tossing side to side. Two warm hands gripped her shoulders tightly. 

“Minerva! Wake up.”

Her eyes sprang open, searching around the room. “Hermione.”

“I’m here,” she nodded. “I came as soon as I received your owl. That’s quite a nightmare you were having.”

Minerva nodded. “Life has been… full, my dear.” She nodded toward the desk, “Bring me my book, please.” With great effort, Minerva lifted herself onto her elbows, sitting upright against the pillows. “I’d like you to have it. There are,” she paused to wet her lips, “secrets that lay within, research, that you are, perhaps the only one I can entrust,” she hesitated inhaling deeply.

“It is time, my dear. My time, your time, time before, time to come, and everything,” she gasped raggedly, “everything, in between.”

Minerva watched as Hermione clutched the leather-bound book to her chest, before she once again closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, one last time. 

“It is time.”


End file.
